Happy Valentine's, have a Lynncoln.
The trip to return to The Town was quick, it felt like it lasted hours. At least, that's what it was like for Lincoln. Maybe it was the dread he was feeling that fed into that. Or the guilt. Or the confusion. Or maybe all three. He was suspended in the air as a flying Lynn took them both home. From his bird's eye view, he could see the hellish inferno in the distance get closer and closer, and he gulped when Lynn began to lower herself. He steeled himself, mentally prepping for whatever they were about to face.
They landed on the ground, stumbled slightly, then got over it and rushed towards the gates. To Lincoln's horror, the shredded body of a guard lay on the ground in front of the wall, in a pool of his own spilled body. He tried to ignore it as he rushed through the gate and…
It's a madhouse, he thought with a gasp.
Everywhere he looked, he saw werewolves. The vicious beasts were running around, either howling or chasing prey or fighting with the few brave guards that hadn't already died or fled. People were also running around, screaming as they tried to dodge the fires and the werewolves.
His head cocked to the right just in time to watch a woman get cut down by one of them.
"No!" Lincoln cried. He quickly pulled out his sword and dashed over to them. The werewolf barely had time to look back when his face was slashed by a silver blade. It jumped back and yowled with pain, giving Lincoln just enough to draw his hand back and sink his sword deeply into the werewolf's belly. It fell to the ground, gasping for breaths... then breathed no more.
He rushed over to the woman and pulled her off the ground. "Are you hurt?" he hurriedly asked.
The woman had a deep gash on her face that was already heavily bleeding, but she put on a brave face and shook her head.
"Okay. Get out of here. Help whoever you can, then leave."
"Yes. Of course. Thank you."
As he watched her run off to safety, he couldn't help but fall into a sort of daze. It all seemed so sudden, so unreal; The Town was standing tall and strong only a few hours ago, only to descend into chaos and anarchy in less than a night. His eyes bulged out like glass buttons, and his ears were ringing. He had to pinch himself to make sure he wasn't dreaming.
"Hunter!" The shout pulled him out of paralysis. He looked over and saw one of the guards on the guard, just barely fighting off a werewolf with his lance. Gritting his teeth, Lincoln charged the werewolf and dug his blade into its side, then sliced the monster in half. It went down with a agonized howl. He stared down at the lycan he had just chopped up and… well, he couldn't stop a proud smile from coming.
"Man, I'm just a hunting machine right now."
He heard a snarl behind his back. A werewolf had tried to sneak up on him while he was basking in his glorious moment, and if it weren't for Lynn colliding into it and aggressively punching its throat, it would've killed him.
"Thanks," he told her when she got up.
"No problem. Just keep your head in the game."
He nodded. "There's something more important to deal with right now."
"What is it?"
He cautiously glanced at the guard, then leaned into Lynn's ear. He pointed at the horizon, at the hints of color poking out. "The sun's going to be coming up soon," he whispered to her, "so your powers are going to run out. I need you to hide, Lynn."
"What? No. I'm still strong enough to-"
"Even if you were, do you really want people noticing that you have powers?!"
"I don't care! I can't just let people die!"
"Shhhhhhh! Don't yell."
As annoyed as he was by her stubbornness, he still felt his heart glow. Even after everything The Town had done to her, she was still willing to risk herself for them, a people that hated her. God, he loved her.
"Okay," he finally relented. "Go help people. But please, Lynn, promise me that when morning-time comes, you'll go hide and be safe."
"Lincoln-"
"Please."
His tone was so disarmingly begging that Lynn, with a growl of frustration, reluctantly nodded. She leaned and pecked his lips. "You need to stay safe too," she told him. "If we went through all that at Lily's place just for you to die, I'll kill you."
He chuckled. "Love you too."
Smiling, she dashed off in a blur of red and brown. Lincoln was sure she was going to give those werewolves hell.
"Um, a little help, lover boy?"
"What? Oh right, sorry," Lincoln said to the guard he had just saved. Lynn's kiss made him forget he was even there. He offered his hand and the guard pulled himself up. The older man dusted off his uniform, and nodded in appreciation.
"We really could've used you when they started attacking, hunter," he said.
Lincoln grimaced. "Sorry," he said. "I was… busy somewhere else. What the hell even happened?"
"I don't know. For a long time we heard them howling all loud-like in the forest, and then before we knew it, one of the guards at the gate was running in and screaming how 'they' killed his buddy. Before we could even figure out who 'they' were, a bunch of those werewolves busted in and started tearing people to little pieces. And then the fire started, and… God protect us, it's awful."
"It is. But why are they even here? Werewolves hate attacking people in large groups. There's no way they'd attack a town."
"I don't know and I don't care. All I know is that my people need help. You're up to speed now, boy. Time to earn your paycheck and start fighting."
As if to illustrate his point, a large werewolf with reddish fur and a scar across its face let out a demonic roar and began to charge towards them. The guard got into position, spreading his legs and tightening his grip on his lance. Lincoln fixed the raging beast with a deathly glare, and swung his sword. It tried to jump out of the swing's way, but the sword managed to slice off one of its paws. Screaming, it fell, and both Lincoln and guard were upon it, stabbing its back. Blood oozed from the puncture wounds as the monster tried swiping at them, one time just barely missing Lincoln's jacket. The young hunter leapt back with the agility of an ape and charged with the anger of a bull. The tip of his sword sunk into the werewolf's head, broke through the skull and sliced into its brain. When Lincoln pulled his sword out, the beast was dead.
He stood for a still moment, huffing, then turned and ran towards another werewolf, ready to continue his fight.
After that, it was all a blur. Lincoln didn't remember how long he fought for - only the sights and senses stuck with him. The whole world seemed to smell of the metallic scent of blood. His blood, their blood, the blood of the guards, the blood of the innocents… it was all one, spilled across the ground like the canvas of a perverse, sadistic artist.
Lincoln remembered every blow he received. He remembered a werewolf clawing his right cheek, and another knocking him to the ground and stomping on his chest. But he also remembered everything he did to them. He cut at them, jabbed at them, swung at them. Once he sliced open the belly of a lycan as it stood upright, and its organs fell out, each making the wet splat sounds of fruit as they hit the ground. He couldn't even remember anything else about that werewolf, other than how its liver and stomach and kidneys fell from it. He had become an automaton of death, a grim reaper; all that mattered, as he fought on, was death, and how to inflict it on his enemies.
Well, that and Lynn.
When he felt tired, the memories of Lynn's kisses revitalized him. When he felt scared, imaging her whispering in his ear brought him courage. When the times came that he fell on the ground, muscles crying out for rest and battered mind crying out for death, he would be flooded with every sensation of Lynn. The scent of blood would fade in favor of her smell. The sight of corpses would fade in favor of her smiling face. The feeling that maybe he should just lay down and let whatever happen happen would be instantly replaced with a burst of adrenaline that made Lincoln feel like he could take on the whole world, just for her sake.
Promise me you won't leave me, she had said to him once.
"I promise," he muttered through his huffs.
Then he went back to fighting.
Haiku, Lucy, and their adopted pup sat huddled in the corner, still and silent. They shouldn't have still been there. Haiku knew that in the event of an invasion, she was supposed to grab Lucy and run as far as she could without looking back. Unfortunately, her plans had been foiled from the start. The moment she heard screaming outside, she had rushed to the window to see what was happening...
...only to be greeted by the horrifying image of a grinning werewolf looking in.
She screamed, grabbed the pup, and fled upstairs as the werewolf broke through the window and entered their home. She had just barely made it up the stairs. She felt the creature's hot breath on her neck, and knew that if she had been just a little slower, it would've gotten her.
Haiku, what's wrong? Lucy had asked. She seemed scared.
Help me lock the door! She had screamed at her in turn.
For nearly a quarter of an hour, they had pressed themselves against the door to keep the Big Bad Wolf from busting it down, like the little pigs from the fairy tales. How two girls managed to keep the door shut against an angry werewolf, Haiku would never know. Perhaps it was weakened, injured by the window it had to jump through. In any case, it had stopped its futile attempts at breaking in after a while, allowing the fatigued sisters relaxed. Still able to hear its growls outside, they had boarded the door with every piece of furniture they could move, then huddled in the corner and prayed to be saved.
"Please save me, Lincoln," Haiku heard Lucy's soft voice whimper. Her heart broke for her little sister.
I can't let her die here, she decided. I don't care what happens to me, I just need to save her.
But what could she do? There was a window, but if Lucy jumped from that height, her legs would break and the predators would devour her like the easy prey she was. She could try to distract the beast while Lucy fled, but Haiku knew her sister would never agree to that plan. Frustrated, she bit on her thumbnail, and hissed as she went through plan after plan, each more worthless than the last.
"Haiku?" The librarian looked to her junior. Lucy bit on her lip fearfully, then asked, "What do we do?"
"I don't know."
She gasped and covered her mouth. She didn't meant to say that, especially so bluntly, but the damage was done. The fear on Lucy's face became terror. Even the pup let out a defeated whine.
Silence hung in their corner. The only sounds came from the werewolf outside – a grim reminder of the stalking death waiting for them. Haiku watched Lucy lean on the wall, her face shifting into a mask of neutrality. She stared at the ceiling, deep in thought. Even her eyes, which peaked through her bangs, were cloudy rather than clear. Finally, she smiled. It was a deeply unnerving smile.
"Well," she said, "I've always wanted to die tragically."
Haiku felt herself shake. "Lucy, please, now's not the time to talk like tha-"
"Why not? Because we're going to make it through this together with the power of family? And we're going to get a nice big library and some nice boys to settle down with in our make-believe happy ending?" Lucy mocked. "We're going to die, Haiku. We might as well accept it."
But Haiku didn't accept it. She just felt herself get angry. Her fist clenched as she asked:
"Do you think Lincoln would just accept it?"
Lucy's features flickered with surprise and anger, but Haiku didn't care. "Do you think that's what Lincoln would want in a girl? Someone who'd just fall over and die the moment things got tough? He's a fighter, Lucy, and you should be too."
She opened her mouth to respond. Haiku just barreled through. "What happened to you wanting to confess to him? Do you think your corpse is going to tell him how you feel? Are you really ready to die without ever letting him know? You're right, that would be tragic... tragically pathetic!"
She was huffing by the time she finished. She didn't think she had it in her. She had always been a frosty and dispassionate girl… perhaps Lucy was the only thing that could break through her cold surface. The only thing that take her attention away from the warzone around them.
Lucy was quiet when she finished. Her sister studied her face for any sign of reaction.
A thin stream of water washed over her cheek.
"I'm sorry."
Haiku didn't know what to say, so she grabbed her sister and hugged her.
"It's okay… we'll make it through this okay. I promise."
Lucy whimpered, and Haiku felt her shudder. She tightened her grip on the younger girl, and let her hands run through her long black hair. She could feel their heartbeats becoming one, a reassuring tempo of their dedication to - and love for - each other
God… if you're listening… if you'll still listen to someone like me… help us.
And then, when Haiku least expected it, the voice of God answered:
"TAKE THAT, YOU DUMB DOG!"
Huh, that's weird, she thought. God has a scratchier voice than I expec-
"Lincoln," she heard her sister Lucy say. The younger girl perked up, her ears twitching like a cat's. She looked at her sister and asked, "Did you hear that? It sounded like... Lincoln."
Oh… right. That's Lincoln's voice. That… that makes more sense.
Lucy rushed to the window and peered down below. She was just in time to watch Lincoln, with both hands clutching the hilt of his weapon, chop a werewolf's head clean off. The headless body fell to the ground, and Lincoln fell besides it. He was visibly tired; his whole body heaved from the deepness of his breathing. His knees were buckling, his hands shaking, and his red face was glistening with sweat. His clothes were in tatters now, and blood seeped from all over. But despite that, despite everything, Lucy was momentarily distracted, clutching her chest and looking down on the warrior like he was the noble shining knight to her fairy tale princess.
Her fanciful daze was cut short when their door began shaking again. The werewolf on the other side was pounding on it again, and the furniture was the only thing that kept the door from bursting completely open.
"Lucy!" Haiku screamed. She bound across the room and threw herself at the door, hoping to keep it closed. "Call Lincoln! Now!"
She nodded fearfully as she watched Haiku brace herself for the monster's aggressive attempts to get in. She forced herself to tear her eyes away as she stuck her head out the window and called to Lincoln: "Lincoln! There's a werewolf in the library! Help us!"
Help me.
She didn't get a chance to see if he looked up. She didn't get a chance to see if he even heard her. She heard her older sister scream and threw her head back to watch her fall to the ground as a gnarled, hairy arm broke through the wooden door. It flailed like a fish on land before one of its claws clinked against the metal lock. As if the beast that had once been man remembered how doors worked, it slashed at the lock.
Lucy squeaked in horror as the monster broke through. Haiku screamed.
It was angry. That much was obvious. The deep bass of its low, rumbling growl had the hairs on Lucy's arms stand. It paced around the room slowly, its eyeballs rolling around rapidly, shooting back and forth between the two sisters.
Its gaze then affirmatively locked on Lucy, and it pounced on her.
Lucy screamed as the hairy beast knocked her against the wall. The back of her head smashed into it, nearly knocking her out. Perhaps she would've preferred being knocked out; the werewolf was now pining her down to the ground, its claws digging into her skin. The burning saliva that dropped from its maw dripped into the wounds it was making, which only made them hurt more. Lucy gagged; the stench was atrocious.
Just as the werewolf threw its head back, with its mouth open and ready to devour, Lucy closed her eyes shut and curled up, bracing herself for death.
Time itself slowed as the lycan's teeth descended upon her.
Goodbye Haiku, she thought, and goodbye… Lincoln.
"Lucy!"
Lincoln burst through what remained of the door. Thinking quickly, he took his sword like a spear and threw it at the werewolf. The blade spun as it went through the air, and by the time it pierced through the werewolf's cheek, it didn't know what hit it.
The werewolf howled in pain. The sword itself was bad enough, but the silver scorched it like fire. Forgetting about Lucy and everything else, it threw itself on the ground as it scrambled to pull the sword out. It tried screaming again, but the tip of the blade tapped its tongue, and its entire mouth felt like it was turning into stone.
Its worst fear had been realized: it wasn't the hunter now. It was the hunted.
Lincoln knew he couldn't get to his sword, so he reached for his new crossbow. It was already loaded with the poison-tipped arrow, but Lincoln knew that now was not the time to use it. His eyes darted across the room, searching for something, anything, to load his crossbow with. Shit, shit, shit, urgently raced through his mind. At last, he saw a long, thin piece of wooden shrapnel from what had once been their door. The size and shape were perfect for his weapon; it was as if an occult hand had crafted it perfectly for his usage. Lincoln preferred not to dwell on the philosophical implications of divine intervention and instead to lunge for it and load it into his crossbow just as the enraged werewolf succeeded in drawing the sword from its bloody jaws.
Gritting his teeth, he closed one eye, took aim, and pulled the trigger right as the supernatural horror began to charge out at him, its mouth wide open…
The makeshift arrow flew right into its mouth. By the time it came to a full stop, the sharp tip had speared the werewolf's brain. It died instantly, falling at the hunter's feet.
The exhausted Lincoln found himself envying it.
I'm so tired…
He thought of seeing Lynn at the end of all this, and it brought a weak smile to his face. He promised himself that the first thing he'd do once all this was over was get into bed with her and fall asleep in her arms. It would be such relieving rest, he imagined, and the more tired he was, the more satisfying it would be. That thought made it worth it. Well, that and the gratitude he could feel coming from Lucy and Haiku.
He stooped to the ground and scooped up his sword. Grimacing at all the werewolf blood that stained it, he put it away in its sheath and looked to the librarian sisters. "Are you two alright?" he asked. "Did it bite either of you?"
"I'm fine. Thank you," said Haiku.
He nodded, then turned to the younger girl.
"And you, Lucy?"
He expected her to meekly murmur something in thanks.
He didn't expect her to tackle him and bury her face in his chest.
"I-I… was s-so scared. I… I thought it was going to k-kill me..."
"Lucy..."
Something washed over him; something brotherly and protective. Just a few seconds ago he had dedicated himself to the spirit of the warpath, and yet just the mere sight of Lucy crying, the feeling of her warm tears on his shirt, exorcised it. He dropped his crossbow and put his hand on her head, lightly patting it.
It's okay, he wanted to say to her. You're alright. You're going to be alright.
The words stayed lodged in his throat, though. Thirst had turned his pharynx into a desert.
He looked at Haiku. "Water," he croaked.
She looked confused for a moment, as if the idea of asking for water at this time was the most absurd thing in the world right now. She obliged him, though, and scurried downstairs to bring back a goblet of water. She handed it to the hunter, and to her surprise - and probably his - he didn't drink from it.
Instead, he gave it to Lucy.
"I'll… I'll get you a refill," Haiku said when her sister was done. She took the goblet from her and went back downstairs. Lincoln, with a heaving groan, sat down on the ground and pressed his back against the wall. He grabbed a fistful of his shirt and wiped some of the sweat from his brow. He then looked to Lucy. He knew he didn't have long to stay, so he figured he'd cut to the chase:
"Why are you two still here?"
Lucy lowered her head shamefully, as if their being there was her fault. "We couldn't get out in time," she said. "By the time I figured what was going on, one of them had already broken in. Haiku and the pup just barely made it upstairs in time."
"Oh, I see- wait, pup?"
"Oh no." She put her hands over her mouth. "I wasn't supposed to mention it. It was supposed to be a secret."
"Look around, Lucy. Does this really look like a time for secrets?"
Reluctantly, she whistled for the pup. "Here boy," she said warmly in spite of her ghastly tone.
Lincoln heard a low whine. Out from underneath one of the beds, a small and frail puppy dog stepped out, taking unsure steps into the light. The canine's eyes were fearful, but they didn't seem afraid of the werewolf's bloody corpse – they seemed more afraid of the man who took it down.
Nevertheless, the puppy obeyed its mistress' call. Lucy scooped the puppy up in her arms and let the furry snout nuzzle into her cheek. "I'm glad you're okay," she cooed. Then she looked to Lincoln and said, "We didn't want to bring up that we had a dog now for a few reasons, but-"
"I understand," he said. He had always wanted a pet for himself, but only the best of the best hunters got pets, and those pets were meant to be hunting partners. The dogs hunters kept weren't cute puppies; they were bloodthirsty carnivores that would dash across all of Europe just to land one kill.
Haiku returned with more water, and Lincoln graciously accepted it. He put the goblet to his lips and poured the cool liquid into his mouth. Feeling relief flooding his throat, he began to gulp it all down, and smacked his lips when he finished. Who knew water could be so much of a delicacy? he thought with a chuckle.
"So what do we do now?" Haiku asked.
"You two need to leave," Lincoln said, "and I need to get back out there and fight. Wasted too much time here. I can still hear people screaming." He grabbed his sword, wiped some of the grimy blood of the blade, and mentally prepped himself for the battle to come. He took one step forward before he heard something he never thought he'd hear:
"I don't want to leave."
Both Lincoln and Haiku turned to stare at Lucy, their eyes bulging with shock. At first the young girl seemed like she was going to hide her face using the puppy, but she steadied her resolve and fixed them both with a brave stare. "I don't want to leave," she repeated, without a hint of waver or cracking in her voice.
To Lincoln, it was unbelievable: since when did the shy Lucy have enough courage in her to contradict him? If he weren't so annoyed by her holding him back from the battlefield, he might've been impressed.
"Lucy," he started, taking a patient yet firm tone with her, "if you think you can stay behind and help people, then… well, that's admirable, but it's not going to work out for you. Another werewolf will bust in, and next time I might not be around to save you."
"But… I can't just do nothing!"
"You won't be doing nothing. You'll be surviving. And that's the most important thing right now."
"He's right," her older sister said.
He was right, but Lucy didn't want to admit it. Some strong sense of childish stubbornness kept her feet glued to the ground. She wanted to help others, and maybe… maybe that would show Lincoln that she wasn't weak. That she could stand strong and help others like he could. That… that she could be by his side, even in times of trouble.
She couldn't say that to them, so without anything to say, she finally gave in to the instinct of holding the puppy up to hide her blushing face.
Haiku sighed. Turning to Lincoln, she was started to say "I don't think I can leave Lu-" when she noticed something strange in his eyes. He was staring at the pup Lucy held up with an intense light of… recognition. The hunter squinted, blinked, and rubbed his eyes. Haiku was just about to ask him what was wrong when he turned to look at her and asked:
"Where… where do you two find this thing?"
"Thing? You mean the puppy?"
"Answer the question!" He seemed unusually nervous, which put Haiku on edge.
"W-We found it at the door," Haiku said. "There was a knock at the door one night, and we opened it and it was there-"
"And you kept it?!"
"What were we supposed to do? Give it to the petting zoo? It would've been turned into meat in a month. And why do you even care, it's just a little dog."
"Haiku… that's not a dog. I-I've seen this one before in the woods. It's... it's a werewolf pup."
"What?!" Both Lucy and Haiku cried in unison.
Lincoln didn't answer them anymore. He began stroking his chin and mumbling to himself. "If that's here… then of course they'd… yeah, this all… but who would've… Lynn told me about their children… Town's on fire because..." He continued like this, pacing in place. His brow furrowed with deep thought. He suddenly jumped to the window, pressed his face to it, and looked out at the werewolves and their victims below. He looked back to the pup Lucy was now nervously holding away from herself, and he snapped his fingers as it all came together.
"That's why they're attacking!" He waved his hands frantically. "Lucy, Haiku, you two are librarians. One of you has to have studied werewolves. What's the one thing above all else that a werewolf will protect?"
Lucy dwelt on it for a moment before she gasped. "Their young."
Lincoln nodded grimly. "Werewolves are a mix of man and wolf… two species that care strongly for their young. They will do anything to keep their pack's younger members safe. The reason they're attacking The Town is because they think you've kidnapped that pup!"
"But… but we didn't-"
"I know you didn't, but someone did and they left it here. And now all those werewolves are here to bring it back, no matter how many of them and how many of us die."
"Well good. We figured it out," said Haiku. "So what do we do now?"
"I know what to do." Lincoln stepped up to Lucy, and held out his hand expectantly. "Give me the pup, Lucy. I have no idea why you're still holding it, but give it to me so I can end this."
Her eyes flashed with fear, and she took a step back, cradling the young werewolf to her chest. "What are you going to do with him? Y-You're not going to hurt him, are you?"
"No. I'm going to give it back. I won't hurt it, I promise."
Lucy lips trembled with uncertainty. Her mind was torn. She looked down to the puppy she held near her bosom, and he looked back up at her with wide, sparkling eyes, pleading with her to let him stay nestled by her chest. But she also knew that Lincoln was right, that he needed to take him from her and give him back to his family. The spark of connection she felt wasn't worth the numerous deaths that could be avoided if she just… gave… him… the… pup…
She forced herself to give it to him. The puppy yelped as Lincoln squeezed it a bit too tightly, and Lucy cringed, feeling its pain.
"Thank you, Lucy," he said, with some sympathy in his tone. He reached to pat her shoulder, but she stepped away from him and kept her gaze fixed on her shoes.
You can make it up to her later, Lincoln's inner conscience told him, but now you have a job to do.
Outside the library, there was a large werewolf with silvery fur and a large gash across his eye. He was an older werewolf; not as strong or as fast as the younger members of the pack. He watched them enviously as they chased down human prey. The joy of the chase… that was something he missed. The arthritis in his legs kept him from running much, and his body didn't have the same ability to take pain as before, so he had to settle for eating a stray baby goat that had crossed his path. He watched some of the younger, more impulsive members of the pack go wild in this human settlement, and he growled his disapproval. Weren't they here to recover the stolen little one? He had an excuse for taking a lunch break from that, what was theirs?
Course, most of them were dead now. Served them right. The old werewolf made an odd noise that might've been a chuckle.
He had just broken through the leg bone of the kid when he noticed a human coming. He forced himself to look up from his anticipated meal of bone marrow to watch as a young human with hair as white as his coming closer. The old werewolf was about to take his battle position when he noticed something squirming in the human boy's hands.
It was the missing little one!
The old werewolf let the white-haired boy approach. Their eyes met, and nothing kind was exchanged. The human looked down on him with a cold sort of contempt, and the werewolf responded with a look that hopefully told him that in another place, at another time, he would've gladly eaten him.
The human set the little one down at his feet, then said something in his human language. The old werewolf didn't understand, but it didn't matter. Once the little one was besides him, he knew what he had to do.
The human seemed to know as well. He raised his hands to his ears and plugged them.
A loud howl rose from the old werewolf. All over The Town the werewolves stopped what they were doing and listened.
The little one has been found! Return home!
For a moment, the lycans all stood still, stiff as statues. They glanced at each other, growling and murmuring between themselves. Finally, a young female with maple fur, who had just cornered a frightened pair of young blonde twins, howled in the air and dashed away from her prey. She rushed into the woods, and several other werewolves followed her.
Lincoln stood and watched the mass exodus of monsters. His hand gripped his sword, ready to draw at a moment's notice, but now it seemed like none of them even noticed him. It was a bit surreal, actually. He blinked at the wrong moment, and when his eyes reopened, they were all gone, with only the carnage around him as proof that they ever were really there.
Lincoln sighed. He rubbed his tired eyes. The sun was coming up now, but he didn't want to look. The bright orange of sunrise would've burned his sleepless pupils.
Staggering, he made his way back to the library. Lucy and Haiku were waiting for him at the entrance. They stepped aside as he went to sit down at a chair. Now that the adrenaline was wearing off, everything was starting to hurt. He had definitely pulled a muscle or two, and all the scratches he got were going to need to be disinfected. Miraculously, he hadn't been bitten, but at that moment, all he could think about were all the people who had been. How many people in The Town were going to be turning into werewolves soon? He didn't even want to consider the number.
All because someone left a werewolf pup with Lucy and Haiku.
"Who could've done this?"
"Done what?" said Haiku.
Lincoln looked up and blinked. He didn't realize he had said that aloud. He stretched and groaned, then said, "Who brought this werewolf kid to you two? Someone brought it to you two, and they had to know what they were doing. They had to know what was going to happen."
The three of them were so focused on what Lincoln was saying that none of them noticed two figures approaching the open door.
"I need to find Lynn," Lincoln declared. "The two of us need to work on this. I can't help but feel like this is related to the killings."
"How do you know?" Haiku asked.
"I don't. It's just a gut feeling. If I could just find Lynn-"
"Don't worry, Lincoln. She's right here."
The three of them looked to the door, to where the voice came from. True to what the voice said, there was Lynn… with a gun pressed to the side of her face.
She looked at Lincoln, fear coloring her eyes. "Lincoln..."
"Lynn!" he barked. He shot up and was about to rush over, but stopped the moment he watched the hand bury the pistol deeper into her cheek. He looked to the person holding the gun, and his eyes widened with disbelief.
"Tsk tsk tsk, Lincoln," said Luan. "Better take a seat before I turn your girlfriend into worm-meat~"
"Luan," he growled. "I can't believe this. You're the killer?"
Luan, with a demented look in her eyes, playfully put her finger to her chin. "Hmmm… well, I'd love to claim credit, I'm afraid none of this was my idea. I'm just the henchwoman. The real genius of this operation is right here!"
She stepped out of the way, allowing her partner to step into the library.
Lincoln was expecting Luna to step in. Who else could it be? But when he saw who it was, he felt his jaw drop to the floor. He heard Lucy gasp in surprise, and Haiku took a step back, her visible eye just as wide and terrified as his. "You," she said. "But… but… you're supposed to be dead."
Upon hearing this, the real killer grinned.
"The reports of my death have been… greatly exaggerated," said Lisa.
